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One day a stray cat  came to my house. It looked sad, so I gave it a tin of tuna. The next day it came back. It purred, so I gave it some left-over mince. That night I told a friend about it. She said it’d never leave. I didn’t believe her. But the next day it was there, scratching at my back door and arching its back. I had nothing to give it and told it so. It gave me evils and slunk away.

I thought that would be the end of it, but two days later it returned, this time with a friend. I said, I can’t keep feeding you. You’re not mine. Its friend gave me a look: it’s too late for that.

– Oh, I said, and what are you going to do? Pee on me?

The look said, for starters, and off they went.

The next day they came back with a posse. I kept the door shut and watched out the dining room window as they tore up the flowers and pissed on my lawn. Their eyes were all: give us some tuna and we’ll go away. I didn’t and they didn’t. The next day they returned. And the day after that. And the day after that. They pissed through my letter box and shat on my welcome mat.

Eventually, they came back with a tiger. They looked at him then me: this is the guy. The tiger looked at me standing behind the dining room window. I said, okay, okay, I’ve got a tin of tuna, all right, I’ll go get it.

The tiger began to stalk towards the window.

– We’re way past that now.

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